


it's a quiet, starry place

by floralthor



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Angst, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Skinny!Steve, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 04:34:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2838098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/floralthor/pseuds/floralthor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You question yourself, "When will the sun come out?" and you answer, "When you ask politely."</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's a quiet, starry place

**Author's Note:**

> Steve/Bucky prose! Writing based loosely off Richard Siken's poem "Snow and Dirty Rain" which can be found here: (http://poeticfuck.blogspot.com/2008/06/siken-snow-and-dirty-rain.html) Also! All the flowers I mention; their meanings are important, so keep an eye out!

   Let's say you have a yellow umbrella, and not a blond haired boy. There's a yellow umbrella on the doorstep of your heart, and it's got stars on its eyelashes, and sometimes you want to hold its hand. But you can't because it's not raining, it won't ever rain, it's the middle of the desert, and you're starving, you're thirsty, and all you ever want is to hold the yellow umbrella's hand, and it's going to shield you from the rain if it pours down too hard, and it's going to make sure you are dry.

   And it's a yellow _umbrella_ , it's a blonde haired _boy_ , it's always going to be a blond haired boy, and you can't just sleep with an umbrella because a boy who likes boys isn't a boy at all, it's a burden, and that's all James Barnes is.

   Now, let's say there's a flower shop a block away from your home, let's say there's an umbrella at the counter, asking you politely if you need anything. You've been in the shop for hours, you need to buy a daisy for the umbrella, but you _can't just do that, can you? It's an umbrella, it's a boy, it's Rome burning, why do you want to buy a flower for a broken umbrella anyway?_

   There's a blond haired boy at the counter of a flower shop a block away from your house, and he is beautiful. He has a button pinned to his flannel shirt that says " _Steve_ ", and all James wants to do is scream the blonde haired boy's name when the time is right, when his strings can come together, when it's almost time to go to Heaven.

   Okay, so you buy some yellow tulips instead, and Steve thinks it's nice to meet you. He's asking who the lucky girl is, and you want to shout because you like boys; you like _this particular boy_.

   James walks out of the flower shop and comes again when the tulips are dead in a vase by his window about a week later. They weren't supposed to die so quick, they were supposed to stay alive for months because Steve has a green thumb, but James did not give the flowers to Steve.

   "Bucky," James says when he comes back a fourth time, "call me Bucky."

 

+++

  

Steve is small, and skinny, and it looks like his bones could walk right out from under his flesh if you hit him too hard. They talk about normal things, their jobs, the pretty dames, with Bucky leaning against the counter flirtatiously, sometimes tipping his head back when he laughed. Steve fumbled with his sleeves and smiled shyly when Bucky thought his jokes were funny.

   Steve tells him about his ma, and his asthma, and Bucky tells him about how he wants to enlist in the war, go to Germany or something, and fight for his country; kill the bad guys. And then Steve just says that it'd be better off if Bucky stayed here, just stayed put because he'd hate to see that pretty face twisted with horror after he sees the cruelty of men which is just as marvelous as the Dardanelles and the Himalayas.

   "Don't you worry about me, baby doll," Bucky purrs, "I could carry the stars on my shoulders."

   It's been a year, so Bucky takes him home, unlaces Steve's boots, and then they're sitting on Bucky's bed, with their fingertips touching. There's no talking, there doesn't have to be, and then they're kissing, and Bucky has a blond haired boy right in his arms, and there's no going back now.

 

+++

 

Bucky likes to place flowers in Steve's hair, brush his bangs aside, and there are daisies tucked behind Steve's ear.

   It's raining and the streets are empty, and they want to hold hands, but there are rats who like to eat bones, and they know how to kill another so easily. The buildings are twisting backwards, the bricks are crumbling, and rain falls hard. They want to hold hands, they want to grab a couple of whiskey bottles and live in the mountains, but this is Brooklyn, the mountains could be skyscrapers, and they could live on the top floor. But it's raining now, they're getting wet, so Bucky leans across and whispers in Steve's ear, "Let's run, darlin', there are monsters nearby."

   And they're running now, the monsters could be catching up in a few seconds if they wanted. Steve and Bucky don't hold hands, but flowers grow behind their footsteps, and laughs tumble out from their lips, and all the rats looked away, just this once.

 

+++

 

   Let me tell you a story about war.

   There's a flower shop that a boy named Steve works at, and he is alone, and sometimes this boy named Steve gets bloody noses and black eyes from people he just got aquainted with, and he's got to patch himself up, and it's not just that, it's just he doesn't care anymore, he's all hollowed, and there's a brown haired boy millions of miles away that he just wants to pour his soul into, so hurry up, darling, the monsters are getting closer, and you don't want to be caught.

 

+++

 

   Steve's got a fever, and it's bad, it's getting real bad, he's at 104 degrees, and Bucky isn't coming back, is he? And the flowers turn to dust, all there was was dust on the shelves before the fever came along, and then he's just lying in a whitewashed room under windows that seem to stretch on forever. Steve looks around, and there are beds everywhere in a line poised like coffins, and there are at least three other people with fevers at 104 who have someone visiting him, someone to go home to. There were stars in Stevie's eyes, and now there's just a yellow umbrella with holes in its canopy.

   He's got no job, no money, and no place to stay at once he gets outta there, so he goes back to the flower shop, and there's a beautiful boy at the counter where Steve used to perch, and the beautiful boy asks if Steve needs help with anything. Steve glances at the larkspurs and says, "No, thank you," and walks out.

   He goes to their empty apartment which he cannot enter, so he just stares at the white chipping paint on the outside, and the cracked cement stairs leading up to the weary, old door with its peeling, gold doorbell, and Steve wonders if there was ever such a thing as happiness in the world. But there are hydrangeas growing out of his boot soles, and peonies pouring out of Steve's eyes once he turns to leave, and Steve thinks that it's finally time to let go. There's a soft rain dripping down from sad clouds, and for once, Brooklyn has an earthy smell to it, dirt to plant trees in, and oceans to swim across.

   You question yourself, "When will the sun come out?" and you answer, "When you ask politely."


End file.
